Nacogdoches, it may be supposed, had grown accustomed to that dream of a
Texas Republic which from time to time caused the air about her stone
fort to thrill and vibrate; she was accustomed, too, to see that dream
end in bloodshed and death.
So it was an old story when in 1819 some three hundred Americans came
tramping in, ready, as they imagined, to convert Texas into a free and
independent state. This new expedition, organized at Natchez,
Mississippi, was conducted by Dr. James Long of Tennessee, an energetic
patriot who had served as a surgeon in Jackson’s army at the battle of
New Orleans.
General Long’s brother, David, accompanied him; and his wife and her
sister followed, under the conduct of Randall Jones. They arrived at
Nacogdoches soon after the new republicans had taken peaceful possession
of the town.
A legislative body was formed. One of its members was Bernardo
Gutierrez, who had continued to live at Natchitoches. The Republic of
Texas was proclaimed, and land and revenue laws were passed. A
newspaper, the first in Texas, was started by Horatio Bigelow, a member
of the council.
General Long’s next step was to take possession of the country and
strengthen the infant government. He placed detachments of men at
various points on the Brazos and Trinity Rivers, opened trade with the
Indians, and sent James Gaines, one of his lieutenants, to Galveston
Island to get the assistance of Lafitte.
Jean Lafitte, a Frenchman by birth, had, while yet a mere lad, commanded
a privateer which sailed the Gulf of Mexico. Later, with his two
brothers, he had been, nominally, a blacksmith in New Orleans; but while
hammering horseshoes and making wagon-tires, he was really engaged in
smuggling. After a while, he dropped all pretense, and gathering
together a band of reckless men he established himself in 1810 on the
island of Grand Terre, a swampy lowland in Louisiana near the Gulf
coast. From there he plied his unlawful trade. His band became finally
so bold and troublesome that a reward was offered for their leader’s
head. This proclamation, signed by Governor Claiborne, was posted about
New Orleans; and more than once the daring freebooter was seen talking
gaily with a group of friends, leaning the while with folded arms
against a wall upon which flamed in big letters the governor’s mandate
demanding his head. He was never captured.
[Illustration: Jean Lafitte.]
In 1814, when the United States and England were at war, a British
officer visited Lafitte at Grand Terre and offered him the command of a
frigate if he would join the British navy. Lafitte instead offered his
services to General Jackson, fought gallantly at the battle of New
Orleans, and received a full pardon from the United States government.
But his restless spirit would not long suffer him to remain inactive. In
1816 he fitted out a schooner (_The Pride_) and sailed to the
uninhabited island of Galveston.
This island was discovered by La Salle as he coasted along the Gulf in
1684, seeking the Mississippi River. He called it the Island of St.
Louis. It was afterward known as Snake Island, and received its present
name, about 1775, in honor of Don José Galvez, governor of Louisiana and
son of the viceroy of Mexico.
It had been occupied for a short time (1816) by a band of Mexican
“republicans,” under Manuel Herrera and Xavier Mina. They were joined by
Luis d’Aury, a Mexican naval officer, and Colonel Perry, an American who
had taken part in Magee’s ill-fated expedition. They set up a sort of
republic on the island. Their fleet of twelve armed vessels sailed the
Gulf, and for a time the enterprise prospered. But the little republic
did not last long. The leaders quarreled among themselves; the United
States denounced their sailors as pirates; the settlement was broken up,
and Galveston returned to its native solitude.
The island was covered with beautiful green grass; there were no shrubs,
and the only trees were three live oaks clustered together about midway
of the island. Its wide beach shone like silver in the sunlight. Here in
a short time Lafitte had established a miniature kingdom. Adventurers
came flocking to him from every direction, and in less than a year there
were a thousand persons on the island. Lafitte, bearing the proud title
of “Lord of Galveston,” held absolute sway over them. The fort and the
town, which he named Campeachy, were kept under strict military rule.
The bay harbored a fleet of swift vessels, sailed by fearless pirates
who swept the Gulf, capturing and plundering Spanish ships and bringing
the rich spoils to be divided by their chief. On the incoming Spanish
barques there were bales of silks and satins, woven for the dark-eyed
dames of Mexico, and soft carpets and priceless hangings for their
houses; there were rare wines for the tables of the viceroys, and
gold-embroidered altar-cloths for the churches. On outgoing Mexican
vessels there were bars of silver and ingots of gold, tropical spices
and dyes, uncut jewels, and beautiful skins of wild animals. All these
treasures were unrolled and spread out on the open square of the fort,
and each man was allotted his share. Lafitte was generous with the goods
brought in by his freebooters. Once from a rich “haul” he took for his
own share only a slim gold chain and seal which had been removed from
the neck of a portly Mexican bishop on his way to visit Rome. This chain
and seal were given by the pirate to Rezin Bowie, a brother of James
Bowie. It remains in the Bowie family to this day.
Besides the regular business of piracy, which was politely called
privateering, a brisk slave-trade was carried on between the island and
the shores of Africa. Slave-ships came boldly into the harbor and landed
their cargoes of black humanity at Campeachy. The negro gangs were
driven into the fort, where they were sold _by the pound_. The price
paid was generally one dollar a pound, though prices sometimes fell so
low that an able-bodied man or woman could be bought for forty dollars.
The purchasers hurried the unhappy Africans through the country to Baton
Rouge and New Orleans, where they were resold at higher prices.
Lafitte was adored by his followers, though he ruled them as with a rod
of iron. In person he was tall, dark, and handsome, with stern eyes and
a winning smile. He wore a uniform of dark green cloth, a crimson sash,
and an otter-skin cap. He lived in great state, in a richly furnished
dwelling, called, from its color, the “Red House,” and entertained there
in an almost princely manner the strangers whom business, curiosity, or
misfortune brought to the island.
The Carankawae Indians, who had formerly held the strip of silver sand
as their own fishing-ground, visited the newcomers, and gazed with
wonder at their ships, their houses, and their cannon. But in a short
time a quarrel arose between some of the freebooters and the chiefs, and
four of Lafitte’s men were killed.
Lafitte hastened to avenge their death. He marched to the Three Trees,
where three hundred Carankawaes were encamped. His own force numbered
less than two hundred, but they were well armed and provided with two
pieces of artillery. The Indians after three days of hard fighting were
defeated, and withdrew to the mainland. This defeat increased their
hatred of the whites. But they gave no further trouble to Lafitte.